


Don't Wanna Fall In Love

by lyriumandmentats



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I really should have slept, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumandmentats/pseuds/lyriumandmentats
Summary: Arthur Maxson is the last of his line, and the Council of Elders has been putting an increasing amount of pressure on him to produce an heir and continue on the Maxson bloodline. Something he is reluctant to follow through on...and perhaps not for the reasons most would expect.----A bit heavier than some of the other fics I've written. I really just hope I did it all justice.





	Don't Wanna Fall In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Build up in the first part with a little lovin'. If you want the smutfest, chapter two is where it'll be. But I had to put up the first chapter before it got deleted from my drafts Dx
> 
> (Also don't worry, I'm still working on my other Maxson x Sole fic, too!)  
> Cheers! <3

Clouds gathered on the far horizon, grey and swollen as they dragged their way across the expanse of sky. The smell of rain hung on the air even as the sun shone bright above, stubbornly refusing to be swallowed up by the coming rain. Below, scuffed boots crunching long-dead plants and debris, Elder Maxson trudged towards the settlement ahead.

Sanctuary.

The settlement had been steadily growing ever since the Minutemen had claimed it and started rebuilding. Their efforts had drawn attention from all across the Commonwealth, thanks in large part to their General, Warren Scott. The Sole Survivor, the Man out of Time. And, to Maxson, Sentinel.

Truly Warren was a valuable asset to the Brotherhood of Steel, but beyond that, he was a good man. One of the best the Elder had ever met. A man who, despite a past fraught with tragedy, was always willing to help those in need, even if he did have a tendency to grumble a bit. Even now, after the Institute was nothing more than a bad memory and the Commonwealth was safe from its looming presence, Warren threw himself into his work with the Minutemen.

One by one, more and more settlements flew the faction's flag as they came under its protection. Maxson didn't know why, but that made him proud; of Warren, specifically. Truthfully, he missed the man's presence around the Prydwen. He was a busy man, certainly, with so many settlements to check up on, but every now and then Warren would pop in, if only to drop off more technical documents for Proctor Quinlan or help Ingram with tracking down supplies for repairs and refueling.

Maxson always meant to ask him to stay for a drink, but Warren would vanish as quickly as he'd come. It always disappointed him. Perhaps more than it should have.

He wished that now, with his boots feeling as if they were filled with rocks and his shoulders sagging under the weight of a million anxious thoughts, was one of those times. Seeking out casual conversation with a man who, despite the rather significant age difference, Maxson had come to call a friend. But it wasn't that.

Not at all.

Not wanting to cause a fuss, Maxson had directed his vertibird pilot to drop him off about a mile south of the settlement. In hindsight, he almost wished he'd landed closer. Less time alone with his thoughts. But there wasn't any point in thinking about that now. Sanctuary loomed ahead either way, the sound of turrets whirring from their positions along the walls and fences surrounding the perimeter growing steadily louder as he approached.

A large gate flanked by two guard towers was the only entrance Maxson could see, and he picked his way carefully across the wooden bridge that led there. At the sound of his footsteps he saw a man perk up in the tower, holding his laser musket close, clearly wary of the stranger.

"Can I help you?" he asked, fingers drumming against the barrel of the weapon.

Maxson forced a tight-lipped smile as he stopped at the foot of the tower, lifting a hand in polite greeting. "Greetings. I'm looking for Sent- er, General Scott. Is he available?"

The guard scoffed. "The General is a busy man, friend. But if he ain't around, you could always try talkin' to Preston Garvey. He's the second-in-command 'round here."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

There was a moment of silence before the guard grumbled to himself and leaned over the fence behind him, shouting something to someone out of sight. As the gate creaked open, he returned his attention to Maxson.

"No funny business, ya hear?"

"Loud and clear." Maxson pursed his lips; this was a terrible idea. There was no guarantee that Warren was even here. Maybe he should just leave now. After all, no matter how capable Garvey was, Maxson doubted he could help with this particular issue. Not when it involved Warren so...well, for lack of a better term,  _intimately._

The gate opened with a grinding noise, Maxson quickly making his way inside before he lost his nerve and bolted in the opposite direction. Feeling this way, like a scared little child, did not sit well with him. He led the strongest faction in the Commonwealth -- arguably on the entire east coast, for that matter -- and yet here he was, sweaty palms and pounding heart as he examined each passing face for the man he sought. More than a few people gave him awkward looks as he passed by. Certainly his attire stood out here, but most of it likely had to do with the fact that he looked like a wounded animal, staring at them all with wide and terrified eyes.

Eventually he grew tired of trying to track Warren down, stopping when he came to a group of settlers tending to what looked like a garden. One of them, a rather sour looking woman, turned her attention from the tangle of melon vines she was weeding to scowl at him. Maxson forced a polite smile. 

"Excuse me, would you happen to know where I might find the General?" he asked, trying to remain as civil as possible, despite the obvious annoyance the woman exuded. 

"Well, the sun is still up, so I'd be willing to bet he hasn't drank himself into a stupor yet," she sneered. "Last I saw him, he was trying to patch up the turrets along the far east wall with Preston. Good luck trying to find him. He always disappears whenever I try and track him down."

 _I wonder why that is,_ Maxson thought to himself, but remained silent, nodding his thanks and turning to the east, walking as quickly as he could. 

Sanctuary was a bigger settlement than he had realized; the old, pre-War houses having been largely rebuilt, and a number of newer buildings having been erected around them. There was even a market of sorts, complete with a resting point for any caravans that came through. It was impressive; no wonder more and more people had decided to relocate here. 

After a time, Maxson finally reached the far wall, where a small group of people were busily working on the network of turrets and spotlights positioned along the wall. Much to his disappointment (or perhaps relief, he couldn't tell), it seemed Warren was not among the group. But a man he immediately recognized as Preston Garvey looked up from the tangle of wires he was sorting through and waved him over. 

"Afternoon, sir," he said, polite as always. "Looking for the general, I assume?"

"Yes, that's right." At this rate, half of Sanctuary would know he was here before he ever tracked down Warren. "If he's busy, however, I can always return."

"No need, we're about finished here. Besides, the general is just over there." Preston pointed, and Maxson followed his gesture to the catwalk about twenty yards away, where Warren was hanging off of a ladder, cursing loudly as he tried to tighten a bolt on one of the turrets. 

It would have been humorous if not for the knot of anxiety tightening in his gut. 

"I'll tell him you're here if you'd like," Preston suggested, and Maxson just nodded. 

"Thank you," he said, and the other man made his way over to the ladder, calling up to Warren, who seemed all too happy to abandon the turret, descending from the ladder at breakneck speed. 

 Maxson was so used to seeing the man in a full set of combat armour that now that he wasn't wearing it, it was like seeing him for the first time. Warren wore only a pair of dark denim jeans and a white t-shirt, splotched with oil in a few places. A smear of the black substance crossed the bridge of his nose, likely from him wiping his face with his dirty hands at some point. 

Warren gave the Elder a salute, fist rising to his chest. "Elder Maxson, what an unexpected surprise," he said, a rare smile flicking across his face only for a second. "I wish I would have known you were coming. At least then I wouldn't be covered in oil."

"You'll have to forgive my sudden arrival, Sentinel," Maxson replied, returning the salute. "I...needed to speak with you."

The Vault-Dweller arched a brow. "Oh?" Clearly he realized that Maxson wouldn't have come all this way personally for idle chitchat. "Is something wrong, Elder? Did something happen?"  
  
"No, no, nothing like that. I needed to...discuss something with you." Maxson felt his tongue go dry, and could only hope that he sounded more composed than he felt. "Something that would be best discussed in private."

Warren nodded slowly. "Well, my house is just behind those few buildings over there. We can talk there, if you'd like."

"That would be satisfactory."

He followed closely behind Warren, who dismissed himself from the group of Minutemen with a wave, reminding Preston to make sure that the evening's guard positions were filled. It seemed like he ran a tight ship here, and Maxson felt another surge of pride; not only for the growing settlement but for its leader. The man who walked before him, denim jeans hugging his waist and his -- 

No, he wouldn't think about that. 

Warren's house was not, as he might have thought, one of the pre-War buildings. Rather it seemed to be one of the newly erected houses, a small, plain two-story wooden structure that didn't seem nearly as nice as most of the other houses here, but that just made it suit Warren all the more. Just beside the steps leading up to the small patio lay Dogmeat, flopped onto his back and snoring loudly. The Elder gave the dog a fond look, and Warren shook his head.

"Some guard dog he is," he sighed, but there was a warmth in his voice and a smile tugged on the corners of his scarred lips. 

Pushing open the heavy front door, Warren gestured for Maxson to enter. 

"You'll have to forgive me. If I'd had warning, I would've had Shawn tidy up a bit." Warren stooped and gathered up a few tools and bits of metal that were strewn across the coffee table. The main floor was small, just an open room consisting of the combined living room, kitchen, and dining room, with a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. 

Maxson shook his head and waved away the comment. "It's no trouble," he said evenly. "How...how is Shawn?" 

He was one of the very few people who knew that the child that Warren called his son wasn't human, but after seeing Warren -- the stoic, sarcastic, and oftentimes abrasive, Warren -- weeping as he gathered the synth into his arms, he didn't have the heart to object. With the Institute gone, he reasoned, what was the harm? And indeed, Warren visibly brightened at the mention of his son. 

"He's a good kid. Smart, too. He's been taking apart every bit of scrap I bring just to see how it all works." The Vault-Dweller cleared some more clutter off of the coffee table before producing two mostly-clean tumblers and a bottle of whiskey, pouring a healthy measure of the amber liquid into the glasses and handing Maxson one. "He's off with some of his friends right now, and it isn't likely we'll be seeing him."

The Elder shifted, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. "I wouldn't mind seeing him. I know your situation is...complicated, but please know that I hold no ill will to you. Or your...son."

Warren's face changed to an expression that was half surprise, half amusement. "I...thank you, Elder. That means a lot, especially coming from you."

"You don't have to use my title here," Maxson blurted out unceremoniously. "That is, uh, it isn't necessary, given the current situation."

"All right." The other man cracked a rare grin, lifting his whiskey up as he gestured for them to sit on the patched yet surprisingly clean furniture in the otherwise spartan living room. Maxson settled himself down onto the couch, gripping his tumbler tightly, waiting for Warren to plop down into the armchair opposite him before speaking.

"I regret not coming to Sanctuary sooner. The work you and your Minutemen have done is nothing short of impressive. No wonder people speak so highly of it."

Warren shrugged. "It isn't the worst place to live for most people, I suppose. I never wanted to settle down here myself again, but...I guess I'm glad to see that it's finding some use."

"You don't want to live here?"

"I don't exactly have many pleasant memories of this place, even when the houses were new. Preston seemed shocked when I told him I didn't want anything to do with my old house. He could tear the fucking thing down for all I care." Warren downed his whiskey and poured himself another, shoulders hunched as he glared at the glass. Maxson tensed himself; this wasn't a good start.

"My apologies. I never would have asked if I had known it would dredge up such unpleasant memories."

"Don't apologize, you couldn't have known that my life before was..." He paused, as if to choose his next words carefully. "Shitty." 

Maxson just nodded, staring down at his untouched beverage as an uncomfortable silence settled between them. He wasn't one to drink, but the conversation that lay ahead was not likely to end well, and he realized that perhaps a bit of liquid courage wouldn't hurt. Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a healthy swallow, trying to ignore the burn of alochol as it slid down his throat, instantly bursting into a blossom of warmth in his belly. Warren watched with an amused look, taking another drink himself.

"I doubt you came here to listen to me complain, though, sir," he said after a moment.  _Sir,_ he'd said. Maxson bit back the desire to correct him. He didn't deserve to be called that, not by this man. "What's happened? It isn't like you to come all this way, let alone without sending word." 

Warren's face was concerned now, and the Elder felt his stomach churn in a manner he doubted had anything to do with the whiskey. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. He didn't deserve this concern, either.

"There's no danger, if that is what you're worried about," he began slowly, and the Vault-Dweller seemed to relax, if only a bit. "I simply...the less people know of this meeting, the better." 

"I see."

 _No,_ Maxson thought to himself,  _you don't. You don't see._

"There is a...personal matter I'm currently facing, and I would appreciate your advice." He shifted in his seat. "I realize this is incredibly unprofessional, given the nature of our relationship, but I..." He trailed off, the word 'relationship' having left a bitter taste in his mouth. A taste that even the bite of alcohol couldn't rinse away.

Warren leaned forward, setting down his glass. "I, uh, I'm certainly not the most  _qualified_ person for you to have turned to, but I'll give it my best shot." He offered a tight-lipped smile. "What seems to be the problem?"

It took him a moment to respond, having quite forgotten how to talk at all. "I have been contacted numerous times by the Council of Elders in the past few months. It is not often that the council convenes in its entirety, given how spread out the Brotherhood is, but...these are unusual circumstances." He tipped back the rest of his whiskey, exhaling sharply as he set down the glass before continuing. "I am, if you are not away, the last descendant of Roger Maxson, the founder of the Brotherhood of Steel. There are no others in the wasteland who have his blood." 

Warren's eyes narrowed a fraction, but he remained silent. 

"The Council wishes to convene to discuss how to best carry on the line." Maxson's voice had an edge, fingernails digging into the material of his pants. "They believe that I have taken long enough to produce an heir, and will be sending me the date of their meeting, where they will introduce me to the one they have deemed a suitable partner."

The other man's brows furrowed, countenance darkening. "A suitable partner," he echoed blandly. 

"Yes."

"They're going to find some woman, likely someone you've never even met, and they expect you to just...have a child."

"Produce an heir," Maxson corrected him, "but yes, that's correct."

"With all due respect, Elder Maxson, that's fucked up," Warren said, clearly disgusted. 

He, of course, agreed, but did not say it. "They say it is my duty to continue the Maxson dynasty, and express their concern that I seem to have made no effort to fulfill that duty."

"Your  _duty?"_ Warned snarled. "This isn't like getting a pet cat or something, Arthur, this is a  _child_ they're talking about! What about you? Do you even  _want_ a child? Because it's fucking disgusting that they'd consider bringing a child into the world for no reason other than to carry on a fucking name."

"I...have entertained the idea of having children, and I am not opposed to it, but...I'm not ready to be a father, not now. Not when I'm so..." He paused, not really knowing what he had meant to say. Young? Inexperienced? Thankfully, Warren didn't press him to finish his statement.

Instead, his face softened a bit, though his brow was still furrowed. "I...I shouldn't have snapped like that, I'm sorry."

Maxson shook his head. "Don't apologize, this is...I should not have bothered you with this. I know you have enough on your plate to deal with without me coming and dumping this sort of thing on you. I just...despite my position, I don't have many confidantes."

"I can understand that. It isn't easy to find people to trust out here." Warren rubbed the back of his neck. "But you chose me to confide in? Not the brightest of ideas."  
  
The goofy smile on his face meant it had been said in jest, but Maxson looked away again, stomach turning in knots. 

"You're a better man than you give yourself credit for," he said quietly. "But if I'm being honest, my situation is vastly more complicated than what I already told you. But to go further would be...unwise."

"Pft. I doubt that anything else you could say would surprise me, Eld- er, Arthur."

Maxson let out a bitter laugh, and Warren cringed at the sound. 

"I very much doubt that," he mumbled. "I am...a selfish man. Selfish that I would have even come here, expecting anything different." He squeezed his glass hard enough that it squeaked under his hand. Warren eyed him warily. "I have been running from this, from my  _duty_ for years now, and it's finally catching up to me. I did not wish to have a child because I'm not...I don't..." 

He swallowed; there was no turning back, not now.

"I am not attracted to women."

There was no noise save for the muffled sounds of hammers clattering as repairs continued outside. Warren stared, expression unreadable, and Maxson wished he would say or do anything. Finally, after several agonizing moments of silence, the Vault-Dweller spoke, voice almost gentle.

"That's a perfectly valid reason for your avoidance," he said softly. "Have you told anyone else? Anyone on the council?"

Maxson shook his head. 

"I understand. It isn't easy to talk to people about these things, especially when you don't know how they'd react."

The Elder hadn't realized he'd been trembling until he looked down at his hands on his lap, knuckles white from gripping his knees so tightly.

"It would not be so much of an issue," Maxson gritted out through clenched teeth, "except there is...someone...who I have developed feelings for."

Warren raised a brow; obviously curious but not wanting to pry. Maxson's mouth was dry, words like lead in his mouth when he tried to speak. Warren was still silent, patiently awaiting whatever he would say next. Maxson contemplated excusing himself, but that seemed insensitive. Besides, the secret burned like fire in his blood, and it would only be a matter of time before it consumed him completely. 

"I have grown to...admire you, Sen- er, Warren, over the course of our time working together." Was it really him speaking? He hardly recognized his voice. "Admire you in a way that might not be entirely professional." He paused, and when Warren did not speak, he continued. "Forgive me for being so forward, but I couldn't continue pretending that I do not feel what I do."

He waited for the inevitable reaction, Warren telling him to get out. But instead there was silence again, stretching out to an uncomfortable length. Eventually Maxson forced himself to look up. The man was staring at him, eyes wide but face otherwise expressionless. 

When Warren finally did speak, however, his voice was hardly louder than a whisper. 

"What are you saying?" he asked. "Are you saying that you're..." He trailed off. 

Maxson finished for him, words coming out far more bitter than he meant them to sound. 

"Yes, I...I think I am in love with you."

Surely the man would send him away now? He heard Warren stand, heard the approaching footsteps, and braced himself for whatever was to be hurled his way, be it word or fist. Instead, he felt a single finger hook under his chin, forcing him to look up into the Vault-Dweller's unreadable countenance. 

"Stand up," was all he said. 

Quickly Maxson obeyed, pulling himself to his feet and squaring his shoulders. He stood a mere inch or two taller than Warren, but he felt like he may as well have been a child; small, timid, waiting for punishment. 

Every nervous thought was immediately erased, however, when instead, Warren offered a small, tired smile. 

"You do realize I'm nearly two hundred and twenty years older than you, right?"

Maxson laughed weakly. "Yes, I am aware of this." 

"Would you still let me kiss you?"

Bugged-eyed, the Elder nodded, hands dangling uselessly at his sides as Warren pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. Whatever he had been expecting, it was not this, although  _this_ was nice. Better than nice; the slight burn of alcohol on the man's lips and tongue, something faintly like tobacco, a vague sweetness that reminded him of mutfruit. He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until he opened them again, gazing directly into Warren's hazel ones.

"That was...that was nice," Maxson said, voice breathless. 

Warren cracked a grin. "I'm glad you think so. Been wanting to do that for a while."

"R-Really?" The Elder felt like his face was on fire. "I didn't think that you were...That you would have been interested. What with your...history."

To his surprise, the Vault-Dweller laughed. "I've never been one to discriminate, Elder Maxson," he chuckled. "And, uh, let's just say that if Nora hadn't gotten pregnant, I never would have settled down with her. Or any other woman, if I could help it."

"It seems we have more in common than I realized."

When Warren fell silent again, he wondered if that had been a stupid thing to say. But then the Vault-Dweller was cradling his face in his hands and had a wistful look in his eyes. 

"Sure does seem that way."

Maxson wondered if Warren could feel how warm his cheeks were in his palms.

"I'd like to kiss you again, if you'd let me."

He just nodded, and Warren kissed him deeper than he had before. Lips moved against his own slowly, the drag of skin on skin making his stomach churn in a manner that was oddly pleasant, if not for the fact that it made him want  _more_ \-- whatever more was. A soft gasp escaped his lips when he felt the Vault-Dweller's hands wrap around him, one settling on the small of his back, the other cradling the base of his skull. It was a gentleness that surprised him.

At the gasp, Warren pulled away, pupils blown wide as he stared at Maxson with a look akin to hunger. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "I didn't mean to get so carried away, I just..."

"Please don't apologize. It surprised me, is all. I am, after all, new to all of this."

"All the more reason for me to be more -" 

Maxson silenced him with another kiss, albeit a softer one. Warren made a surprised sound against his lips before seeming to melt again. 

"I'm not going to break, Sent- Warren," he said, and the Vault-Dweller narrowed his eyes a fraction, expression darkening.

"Oh? That almost sounds like a challenge, Arthur," he said coolly, and the Elder shivered. 

"By all means, then," he whispered.  _"Break me."_

Warren took his lower lip in his teeth and tugged, pulling a groan from Maxson's throat. "Come with me," he said, taking his hand to lead him out of the living room.


End file.
